


What Dreams May Come

by Chess_Blackfyre



Series: A Yellow Rose [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre
Summary: Sometimes, the worst nights are the ones without the demons.
Series: A Yellow Rose [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795546
Kudos: 6





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for blood, death, and violence against children. Rated mature just to be safe.

He is in the Gallows. His a Knight-Captain, and he has a duty to uphold. The blood mages--maleficar--have made themselves known, and they must be stopped before any more innocents can be harmed.

He searches. He finds nothing but empty rooms, but he knows that they're here somewhere. He knows brothers in arms are also searching, as vigilant as he is, but for now, the weeping statues in the courtyard are his only company. (He's always hated the things. Too large, too lifelike to not be disconcerting.) Soon enough, he is at the Harrowing Chamber. Of course. He can already smell the blood.

The Knight-Captain enters with sword drawn. It takes him a moment and an eternity to understand what he was looking at.

The bodies were small. Too small. Huddled together at the center of the room, like chicks keeping close to their dam. He already knew who they were.

Jakob, who’d pretended his staff was a sword and ‘dueled’ the other apprentices. Eva, who asked why Templars had to wear skirts. Katilan, who cried all the way from her mother’s house to the Gallows. (He'd told the woman the Circle would be the best place for her. There the mage could be trained. There she would be ~~safe.~~ )

Their eyes were as open as their throats. There would be no pretending they were just sleeping.

Sitting among them was ~~the mage~~ ~~the Herald~~ the Tranquil. Elsa. (She had been responsible for the youngest apprentices before the Knight-Commander chose her as an assistant.) Frozen blue eyes look up at him, the sunburst brand bleeding red. (Her screams cut short, and limbs go slack as she stops fighting. Burning flesh smells like pork. So many things he wished he didn't know.)

“Is it done?” She asks, voice dead and eyes empty. “Are all the blood mages dead, Knight-Captain?”

He wants to speak. Needs to. But he can’t force the words past the cotton in his mouth.

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just,_ he hears the Grand Cleric preach.

“Are all the blood mages dead?” She asks again, as the Knight-Commander raises her blade. The lyrium sings to him, the sweetest sound of promise and damnation. In the end, was forgetting truly such a horrible thing?

_Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,_ he hears Meredith cry as Elsa’s body falls to the floor.

Something awful drips off his sword.

_Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker_ , he hears himself recite.

(He had been young then, and his worst risk was of falling asleep. He was vowing to protect the weak and the defenseless, and he believed in them with his whole self. What would that boy say to the Knight-Captain? Would he hate him?)

He looks at ~~Elsa~~ the Tranquil's body cooling on the floor.

(He hates himself enough for the both of them.)

* * *

Cullen comes back to himself with a start. Hand reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Panic, then he remembered.

He was in Haven. He was with the Inquisition. He had, apparently, fallen asleep at his desk, based on the crick in his neck and the personnel report he'd been using as a pillow. The long, fat tallow candles were burning low, and the moon was high. Frankly, it had been pure luck he hadn't accidentally set the desk on fire

Rising into a stretch, he looked outside. Things were peaceful enough, under the moonlight. The Breach was still hanging over all their heads, but it had stopped growing and stopped raining demons, so he supposed that was better than nothing.

Leliana and Josephine had probably gone to bed hours ago, and Cassandra was as well if she wasn't still keeping watch Elsa. The mage had collapsed after stabilizing the Breach, and had not yet awoken.

Cassandra told him she could do magic again, and had regained her emotions. That--that was something with many sorts of implications, none of which he'd particularly like to think over. She'd saved the scouting party, and for that he supposed he should be grateful. The troops certainly were, and tales had spread through the barracks of this so-called Herald of Andraste. He had no idea who'd started the rumor, but it had spread quicker than he thought he liked. Cullen rubbed his eyes. Another something he didn't have the energy to think about.

He could go to his own bunk, go back to sleep...No. He was awake, and rested enough as it was. There was plenty of work he could be doing now anyway.

As he went in search of another candle, Cullen couldn't help but wonder if the mage could dream again. (He hoped she was having better dreams than him).

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp. This is, quite possibly, one of the darkest things I have ever written. Revenge of the Sith was inspiring in all sorts of horrible ways.
> 
> I keep being so mean to Cullen! Ha ha, which is strange considering he's one of my favorite characters. Hope you've enjoyed!


End file.
